


The Balance of Power

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-15
Updated: 2004-04-15
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:23:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BB/DM. St. Patrick's Day, 2004. It isn't always easy to tell where the balance of power lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Balance of Power

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the three word challenge. My words are: Guinness, tablecloth and rope. Thanks to sunsetmog for her beta and encouragement.
> 
> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

Title: The Balance of Power  
Author: LeopardSkinQueen  
Email: l_s_q@livejournal.com  
Website: http://l-s-q.livejournal.com  
Pairing: BB/DM  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: Angst, BDSM elements.  
Disclaimer: Never happened. This is simply the product of my imagination.  
Summary: St. Patrick's Day, 2004. It isn't always easy to tell where the balance of power lies.

Notes: Written for the three word challenge. My words are: Guinness, tablecloth and rope. Thanks to sunsetmog for her beta and encouragement.

Billy sat at the table, watching the celebrations go on around him. He’d performed already, and now it was all a bit of an anticlimax, with drunken people who were Irish, but only for the night; Billy wasn’t the sort of person who held with people claiming to be ‘Irish-American’ or ‘any other nationality-American’, for that matter, just because their great great great aunt four times removed on their mother’s side was from Limerick, or some such wank. He set his pint (Guinness, obviously, because some clichés had to be kept to) down on the table, which bizarrely had a green plastic tablecloth, now sticky with the remnants of spilt stout. When left to congeal, Guinness was the most glutinous, staining substance on Earth, so the table was beginning to resemble primordial ooze, and tried to cling to his wrist.

And it had been such a good night up till now. Sometimes, after a stage performance, Billy could feel his adrenaline drain away suddenly, the high disappear rapidly, and he’d be left feeling slightly morose, yet restless. This was one of those nights. Anticlimactic and boring, the evening stretched ahead. It happened. He was used to it, he’d be fine.

And, of course, Dom was full of energy, up on the dancefloor as always. And, as always, Billy was drawn to watching him, with his ‘Look at me, God I’m sexy’ swagger, wiggling about like he was the hottest thing in the room.

And much as he hated having to admit it, as much as it pissed him off and made him curse himself to think it, Billy had to agree. Dom looked fucking good out there. He’d seen Dom watching him while he was on stage, and the thought of that look made him shudder- with arousal, with tension, and a small thrill of fear. The look had been almost predatory, catlike, and Billy knew what he was in this relationship.

If you could call it a relationship, that was. It was like no relationship Billy had ever been in before, and God only knows what it really was. It was the most fucking bizarre dynamic he’d ever been part of- one minute, all tension and sex and heat, yet with a disturbing undercurrent Billy didn’t like to acknowledge to himself, and the next, just two friends laughing over some stupid joke, and nothing about either side was on his terms.

And as he stared over at Dom, admiring how he moved, following every sway of his hips, Dom grabbed some girl on the dancefloor and started dancing with her, grinding his hips with hers.

Bastard. He knew he was watching.

And still he didn’t know if he had the right to be angry, any reason to be pissed off, because when they had sex it was wordless, and in the dark, and they never spoke about it or planned it. It was spontaneous and urgent and furtive, with a dangerous edge. And Billy had no idea what it meant, not the faintest clue where he stood, and what went on inside Dom’s head was a constant mystery to him.

As he watched the pair spooned on the dancefloor, Dom grinding his crotch against her, he couldn’t help but hate her, feel insanely jealous of her. As he watched, Dom met his eyes, and ran his tongue over his lips seductively, then began to lick the girl’s neck. Bastard.

He was doing it deliberately, to drive Billy insane. And, angry though Billy was at himself for it, he was succeeding.

He was also succeeding in really turning Billy on. And he probably knew it, the cocky git. Even though he was dancing with someone else, the man could move, and he knew it drove Billy crazy. Making him jealous was probably his twisted idea of a way to get Billy even more turned on.

It was working. Yet another thing that pissed Billy off to admit to. Great.

So he sat, alone but for his pint, horny, and dispirited, and seethingly envious, as Dom gyrated with some random tart. She probably wasn’t a tart, but Billy was not in the mood to feel charitable towards people who were currently draped over a certain hobbit actor.

Finally, after God knows how long, Dom let go of the bint, and wandered (strutted, more like, the arrogant bastard) over to the table, and sat down beside Billy, smiling brazenly at him. Billy pretended not to see him, and developed an unusual fascination with his pint. Git. Who did he bloody think he was, thinking he could get away with that sort of bullshit? Billy tried to pretend that he wasn’t interested in Dom, that he wasn’t turned on, and that he wasn’t annoyed, because if Dom got the slightest hint that Billy was jealous it would only increase his already fucking huge ego.

Billy wasn’t in the mood to feel particularly charitable towards Dom tonight, either. Not after that bullshit. Not when he was sick of not knowing where the fuck he stood, sick of them fucking desperately in risky places-or, more accurately, sick of being fucked by Dom in risky places, and he himself passively letting the other man take control- without a word while they screwed, and not a word about it afterwards. Sick of the headfucks. Sick of being treated like something that could be picked up and used any time Dom felt like it.

So Billy feigned detachment, and casually drank some more Guinness. Dom wasn’t giving up, however, and draped himself as seductively as he could in his chair, staring beguilingly at Billy from heavy-lidded eyes.

Billy felt a tremor of lust, and it got a bit more difficult to look nonchalant, but he wasn’t going to let that bloody git win. Not this time. He pretended to eye up some girls (all dressed in hideous green, and pissed out of their skulls on a certain black drink they really couldn’t handle, being more used to poncy cocktails than manly stout) who were cackling nearby. He was pretty sure he wasn’t convincing anyone- he certainly wasn't convincing himself- but he carried on the pretence regardless. He was going to pull someone, he was going to walk out of here with someone who wasn’t Dom, and he was going to get laid in a way that wasn’t totally messed up in its balance of power.

That was Billy’s intention, until Dom placed his hand on Billy’s thigh and squeezed, gently.

And then the whole world got considerably hotter, and his jeans somehow considerably tighter, and he drew in a long, shuddering breath.

Bloody, bloody bastard. He always managed to get his way, control him, get him to do what he wanted, and fuck him however he wanted. And he’d never been able to stop it. One look from those grey, smoky eyes (made even more potent with the addition of eyeliner, damn the stuff) combined with a lingering, sensual touch and he was putty in Dom’s hands, and he loathed the fact he let himself give in so easily. He looked up at Dom, and saw him smiling smugly, knowing he’d got his way, and obviously able to feel Billy’s slight trembling. He felt Dom move his hand further up his leg, stroking as he went. Finally, he rested his hand by Billy’s groin, tantalisingly rubbing just beside Billy’s cock, but carefully avoiding touching it, driving Billy insane. Billy gasped in spite of himself, his body refusing to acknowledge his attempts to repress his arousal. Bloody typical- his body was betraying him, despite his resolve to tell Dom where to go.

Dom leaned over towards him, resting his head on Billy’s shoulder, who could feel his breath against his neck and ear.

“Let’s go,” he murmured in Billy’s ear, and reached for his hand.

Billy hesitated. A submissive fuck in the toilets, or an alley- wherever they found first- was that really what he wanted? There were any number of girls- or boys- here who would kill for the chance to leave with him, and wouldn’t be so utterly sexually bizarre.

But he got up, taking Dom’s hand, and followed him.

Even though he never admitted it to himself, he couldn’t give it up. Couldn’t give up whatever was between them, even though it was totally fucked up and unhealthy, and a million other things which made the sane part of Billy’s mind scream at him to stay where he was, to chat up the cute blond guy at the bar, or the pretty redheaded girl sitting at the back.

Billy was beginning to realise that a submissive fuck with Dom in an alleyway was exactly what he wanted, but he shied away from considering what that meant, from thinking about what that must say about him. Instead, he concentrated on watching Dom’s hips as he wove, snakelike, through the crowd. Because that was fucking sexy, and it meant that he didn’t have to think about what kind of person liked being shoved up against the wall and screwed hard whenever their best mate felt like it (and the ‘best mate’ thing was something his mind was studiously avoiding at the moment, because best mates did not have rough, sleazy, dangerous sex, and God only knows what the end result of that thought chain would be).

Outside, the cold air felt like a punch to the face, snapping Billy back to reality. Still holding Dom’s hand, he was being dragged in the direction of a nearby alleyway. Just as he’d expected. A hard, rough fuck in a dirty little backstreet, with himself pliant, unresisting and unassertive.

Fuck that. It was all going to be a little different this time.

As the pair stumbled into the alley, which was dark, dank, and covered in the usually alleyway detritus of rubbish, used condoms and God only knows what else, Billy grabbed Dom suddenly, unexpectedly, and dragged him beside the bins so that they would be shielded from the street, and then pushed his back against the wall, hard, and Billy could feel the balance of power shifting. Dom’s head hit the wall and snapped forward, and when he raised it, Billy could see the gleam of blood on his lower lip- he’d obviously bitten right through it. Keeping Dom pinned against the wall, he began to bite the other man’s shoulder, while grinding against his thigh.

Then, as he lifted his head, pausing for air, he saw it. A piece of rope, lying amongst the rubbish which littered the ground, knotted in places- it had probably been used to tie the bins down at some point. He bent down and picked up the rope, then grabbed Dom’s wrists and looped the rope around them, pulling it tight. Then he raised Dom’s arms above his head, holding them against the wall.

He knew Dom wasn’t really immobilised, knew he could wriggle out of his ‘bonds’ easily. The sensation of power and dominance that swept over Billy, however, as he watched the normally so controlling man submit, and allow Billy to control and dominate him, with a little blood running down his neck from the split lip, was beyond arousing, insanely erotic, yet fucking weird, because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He moved his free hand down to his own jeans, fumbling with the button, thanking whatever deity was in charge of sleazy sex that he’d decided to wear jeans with a zip fly, rather than buttons. After some grappling, he managed to pull down his jeans and boxers, freeing his now aching erection, shivering with a combination of relief, arousal and shock at the extra coldness.

He watched as Dom licked his lips with anticipation, staring in fascination at the blood that now covered Dom’s teeth. He bit Dom’s neck, hard, tasting the dark, metallic flavour of the blood which had gathered there, feeling Dom flinch, yet moan with pleasure.

Dom seemed to be learning that pain and pleasure are simply opposite sides of the same coin, and that being in control, in sex at least, is, after all, overrated.

Billy moved to Dom’s shoulders, and bit the taut muscles there, forcefully, repeatedly, leaving them covered in bruises which would hurt like hell for days afterwards, but caused Dom to gasp with pleasure at the thrill of pain, and stroked his own cock at the same time.

They didn’t kiss. They never did.

Dom was writhing against him, trying to grind his crotch against Billy’s leg, but Billy moved his leg away. The bastard could wait. This was sex as catharsis, as revenge, and as empowerment. Grabbing Dom’s hair, while still keeping his arms raised, Billy pulled Dom’s head back and licked the blood from his neck, slowly, sensually. The feel of Dom’s body, trapped and restrained by his own, and the tremors of desire and pain mingled that he could feel running through it only increased his own arousal, and he bit Dom on the neck again, before scrabbling at the other man’s jeans. Dom offered no resistance; in fact, he’d offered no resistance from the start, and Billy was suddenly suspicious of that, for who really held the balance of power here?

Pulling Dom’s jeans down, Billy found that the other man was wearing no underwear, and he laughed harshly, because he knew that Dom had planned all this, that this had been his intention all along- to manipulate Billy to the point where he seized control. Except he wasn’t the one in control. Not really.

Too turned on to stop, Billy pulled Dom’s cock out from his jeans, roughly, catching the skin on the zipper, and Dom hissed at the pain blending with his arousal. Holding both their erections together, Billy began thrusting his hips against Dom’s, one hand still holding his wrists still, the other pulling at his hair, his face buried in his shoulder, and both gasping for breath, shuddering and trembling as they both worked their way closer to orgasm, Billy’s thrusts becoming more frantic and erratic.

Billy came first, pulling harder on Dom’s hair as he came, stiffening and biting down on Dom’s shoulder. Dom jerked his hips forward, once, twice, three times, and then he climaxed, with a harsh gasp, and Billy could feel him trying to clutch at the wall as he came. Pausing for a moment, Billy kept his head on Dom’s shoulder, trying to get his breath back, and listening to Dom’s still-ragged breathing. Eventually, worried they may be caught, he got up and let go of Dom’s hands, feeling stiffness in the arm that he had kept raised for so long- and God knows Dom’s shoulders must have felt worse, especially with the bruising and the teeth marks. He unwound the rope from around his wrists, Dom briefly massaging them, trying to regain some feeling in his arms, and both men pulled their clothing back on, and wordlessly walked out of the alleyway.


End file.
